Catching Tales
by Dark Lavender
Summary: See ya around, the farewell hung in the air like a broken promise. Years later Rukia found Ichigo again, his past obliterated. She now gambles everything to bring him stories of their past, weaving a future that had once passed them by. Please R&R! IchXRu
1. Chapter 1

Catching Tales

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach nor Jamie Cullum's album of the same name.

A/N: well, I just felt a burning need to write a Bleach fanfiction on day, so here I am. My summaries are horrible, so I'm grateful to those of you who are already reading this. I think this would be one of my better romances, so please keep reading and review please.

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"See ya around Rukia, thanks for everything." He said with that same defiant grin on his face.

"Thank you too, Ichigo." She added pensively, just as the bunch stepped through the threshold of the Senkai Gate.

The wind carried her words away. It began nagging at her years later, did he ever know?

Ironically, even the farewell meant that they would meet once again, but it hung in the air like a broken promise.

---

Time doesn't pass on the Soul Society as it does in the world of living, but it felt long enough. Months, years? Rukia wasn't sure, perhaps it was for the best to not meet again. A shinigami and human have no future together.

She was shocked at her obedience, Rukia's lips corked up slightly at thought of the orange head's reaction if he'd knew. Her heart swelled unexpectedly.

But fate had quite a sense of humour.

It was supposed to be a routine soul burial, but when she arrived she was greeted with a face that she never thought she'd see again.

It was Ichigo's sister, Karin.

Her soul stood on the side of the road, right beside the heap of twisted metal and shattered glass that was once the car. She had grown quite a bit since Rukia had last lived in Ichigo's closet, reminding her how much time had passed. Despite the fact that they had never spoken before, Rukia felt a shock and ache in her heart. It was the first time she had felt anything of the sort, what was it?

Attachment, affection, sorrow. The human sentiments felt alien to her, but heartwarming nevertheless.

Karin spoke up for the first time, confused, her usual persona reverting back to that of a little girl.

"What happened? Why am I here _and_ lying there?" She pointed to a bloodied body lying beside the wreckage. Rukia remained silent, trying to be as she was always taught to be, calm and controlled.

Karin's brow slowly withdrew as the truth dawned upon her.

"You mean, I'm dead?" She asked Rukia, wide eyed.

She nodded silently, a grave look in her eyes just as she was about to raise the hilt of her Zanpakuto.

"Wait, where's Ichigo? I don't see him here, does that mean….?" Karin turned frantically to the wreckage as if trying to bore through the metal to see if her brother was inside.

The name knocked the air out of her. She just stood there, a barrage of thoughts assaulted her mind.

_Ichigo… how long has it been?_

_I never thought that I'll see you again… Like this anyways._

_Please, you were always fine before, stay alive this time too…I beg of you._

With that thought, her eyes stung for the first time in who knows how long. Shocked, Rukia found tears brimming over onto her face.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Karin asked the frozen shinigami. Rukia smiled, seeing that her bashful nature had returned a little, and stamped her forehead with the hilt of her sword.

"Have a safe trip." She silently prayed as Karin disappeared from sight.

_Now, where is Ichigo?_ She mused, scanning the site.

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A/N: What do you think? If you're remotely interested, please review so that I have the motivation to keep going.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: okay people, I'm back with another chapter. I'm beginning to like writing this story and I do hope that you guys like reading it. I'm actually updating at record speed, which actually isn't saying much according to my previous records. Despite my liking for this story, the initial turn out was rather disappointing. Was the summary not good enough or did the story just suck? I do certainly hope that what I have planned for later will interest you guys. By the way, thanks to those who have already reviewed.

So please R&R, I really need those reviews to keep me going.

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_Two cracked ribs…_

_A ruptured spleen…_

_Massive internal bleeding…_

_Brain hemorrhaging…_

_Blood clot in his brain, inoperable…_

Rukia listened as she stood in a corner of the OR waiting room. Even thought she was evidently invisible to mortals, she still felt out of place in her shinigami garb and sword. She winced at each of the doctor's words, as if his pain was her very own. In a way, they were. Apparently Ichigo was out from surgery, but most likely he wouldn't make it through the night.

Rukia's heart tugged at the cruelty of those words, it was as if they were willing him to die, that his life was no more than a statistic. Though oddly, she wasn't worried. He had always clung on before, too stubborn to let something so small stand in his way.

His spirit force could still be felt, but so faintly as if it could fade away any minute. Rukia was just about to follow the signature when the doctor's words floated into her ear and stopped her in her tracks.

"Because of the blood clot that is oppressing the medial temporal lobe, I'm afraid that he may lose some or even all of his episodic memories. This is all I can tell you at the moment, since we would need him to wake up in order to be sure. I'm very sorry." Leaving it at that, he walked away, leaving Isshin and Yuzu in the waiting room alone.

Isshin buried his face in his hands, the usual mischief in his eyes disappeared entirely. Rukia could understand it all too well. In just one day the man lost his daughter and possibly a son. Yuzu just sat there with an empty look in her eyes, staring into space. She was turning out to be quite a striking young woman, but the sheer vulnerability and tear streaks on her face made her seem like the same little girl that Rukia had met years ago.

Feeling the flood of emotions surging against the heavy gate she place between them and her, Rukia turned away from the painful sight. Resuming her original path, she trailed his spiritual energy to the Intensive Care wards. Rukia snuck into the room and shuddered at its sterility. The steel beds and instruments shone an icy light, and the white bed sheets seem to breathe the very scent of death.

The shock of orange hair was not easy to miss amidst all of this.

She rushed to his side, lips quivering at the sight of the numerous tubes coming out of him, with fluids and blood coming in and out of him. His chest rose and fell thanks solely to his ventilator. Rukia was surprised at the fragility of the human life, an alien concept in the Soul Society, where the Fourth Squad could heal any and every wound.

Ichigo's face was completely ashen, almost as if he was dead. Only the beeping of the machineries around him could ensure her that there was still a bit of life left in him.

_Please, stay alive._

Each second passed painstakingly. Rukia couldn't help but wonder if it would be his last. Each thump from the ventilator and beep from the heart monitor kept her hopes alive.

God knows how long she had passed in the ward. She finally gave out and fell asleep on the floor beside his bed clutching onto his bed sheet, as if that way he would stay by her side.

---

She was awoken by a sudden commotion in the room, with her eyes still clouded with sleep, Rukia could see a flurry of nurses and doctors crowding around the bed.

_Incredible, the kid actually pulled through… _

_It's almost as if nothing had ever happened…_

_Is it a good time call in his father? I mean, he wouldn't remember any of them…_

Rukia's heart sank at the last comment. If he wouldn't remember his own family, then there would certainly be nothing left of her.

She scrambled up from the floor and desperately tried to peek through the jungles of doctors and machines around Ichigo's bed. He was awake alright, but there was such an alien look in his amber eyes that she wasn't sure if she was looking at Ichigo or not.

It was fear, something she had never once seen in his eyes. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ichigo gazed at the strange faces peering down at him. He struggled painfully to sit up, but was repeatedly held back down on the bed. Without realizing it, Rukia extended her hand and stroked his cold and clammy cheek, with all the love that they had missed out on in the times passed.

By now Ichigo had quieted down considerably, lying limply on his bed, breath laboured from the struggle.

_So he can still feel me._

Ichigo's head suddenly turned to her and stared at her face as if he had just seen a ghost. She was completely taken off guard by the fact that his spiritual powers were strong enough even at a moment for her to be visible to him. Rukia suddenly realized that _that_, ironically, was true. He really didn't remember her and to him she really is a ghost, a bizarre image generated by his traumatized mind.

Rukia hastily withdrew her hand. Ichigo quickly closed his eyes and turned his head away, sure that he was already beginning to fall under the influences of the sedatives that were given to him. Rukia took the hint and retired to a corner of the room, trying to observe it all with a cool eye, like she was supposed to.

Moments later, the doctors and nurses left the room when Ichigo fell into a deep slumber. Only then Rukia dared venture beside his bed and studied his thinning figure. The wounds had ravaged him, robbed him of all vitality and left almost only a fragile shell. She tentatively ran her fingers through his shock of orange hair, the only sign left of the Ichigo that she once knew. Rukia studied him face, the sunken cheeks and pale complexion could not hide the striking features she loved so. The angular lines of his jaw and the permanent furrow in his brow, she took all of them in with such loving attention, such hunger from their separation.

As she scanned every inch of his face, Rukia could feel another flood of tears knocking at the back of her eyes. She didn't make an effort to fight them back, letting them low freely down her cheeks. _A Shinigami – _

She just was going to rebuke herself with the same old principle when she realized with a start how long she had been in the world of living, that soon she'll have to return to the Soul Society.

_Damn._

Making sure that there was no trace of pain or sadness on his face, that he was at peace and secure, Rukia planted a brief kiss on his cold forehead.

_I'll be back. Don't die, please._

Leaving it at that, she ran out of the room.

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A/N: okay you clickers, review. Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: okay, I am actually putting _efforts_ in writing this story. I wish that this could be a motivation for you clickers to review. Thank you to the _three_ people who have reviewed.

Enjoy.

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Rukia stood on the ever familiar path in front of the Kurosaki Clinic. She heaved a heavy sigh, the place seemed so different from how she remembered it. Perhaps her memory was failing her, but the clinic and house seemed dimmer now, without its old air of homeliness and refuge.

_So Urahara was right…_ Rukia's heart tugged painfully.

Since her return to the Soul Society after Ichigo's accident, Rukia had asked Urahara to keep an eye on Ichigo, to perhaps relieve her of the guilt that she couldn't be there. On duty runs she had been sneaking to Urahara's shop for updates on him, but the trips were harder to make each time. The news were becoming increasingly bad, as it seemed that the Kurosaki family were hit rather hard after the accident.

With no memory from his past, the present found Ichigo a broken man. Isshin probably took his memory loss as a blessing and weaved another tale of why the girl in the family photos was no longer with them. Rukia thought it was a reasonable decision, seeing that the old Ichigo would never forgive himself for failing to protect his family.

Without a single memory of who he was, Ichigo had no choice but to accept that the man and girl who appeared before his sick bed were who they claimed to be. With that, he let himself be taken, by two complete strangers, to a place that they said was his home. It was odd, to be shown an entire life that his self-proclaimed father said was his. In mere days, he was assaulted by a torrent of information, about this man named Ichigo that was their son and brother. He felt like a fake. It was almost as if he didn't deserve to be called Ichigo, who to him had died long ago.

Because of his current state and also injuries from the accident, Ichigo could no longer resume his old job at the local dojo, where there was another life and people that he couldn't remember. This rendered him suddenly without a livelihood. Luckily, a connection of Isshin gave him a job at one of the cafés he own. It was laughable, for Ichigo Kurosaki to be serving coffee and pastries, but for him it was a blessing as it required no particular skills or hard hours.

It wasn't easy for Isshin and Yuzu either, as a daughter and sister couldn't be so easily wiped off. Amidst the sudden void and the complete stranger that Ichigo had become, the family was barely functional.

Each time that Rukia listened to Urahara she became more determined to go ahead with her plan.

---

Rukia stood outside of the 6th Squad's office, seriously contemplating what she was about to ask for. Hopefully, if Yoruichi could do it, then an insignificant unseated officer could do it.

With a little help, of course.

"Captain Kuchiki, may I come in?" Rukia asked as calmly as she could, hoping that the slight shaking in her voice didn't carry though.

"Yes." Came the ever so stoic voice of her brother.

Rukia promptly opened the door and stepped into the room, uncharacteristically filled with the morning sunlight.

"May I sit down? I have some matter I would like to ask you."

His eyes betrayed surprise as Byakuya turned from his work to face Rukia. He tilted his head, gesturing for her to continue.

"I would like to live in the mortal world, a self-exile of sort." Rukia paused, blushing at the naiveté of the words. They sounded much more reasonable in her head.

Byakuya was composed as usual.

"Do you do realize the implications of your request? From concealing your disappearance in the Soul Society to how you are to survive in the mortal world." Byakuya stopped, making it evident that the conversation needn't go on any further.

"Bro- Captain, I mean, with all due respect, I have reasons I would like to keep undisclosed and frankly I am willing to resort to whatever means necessary to reach my goals." Rukia said in a tone so fierce that Byakuya corked a curious eyebrow.

Encouraged by his attention, Rukia continued.

"I can obtain a gigai from Urahara which can render me eventually human. As to the matter of concealing my exit, I have already spoken to Captain Ukitake. I told him that it concerned Ichigo Kurosaki." She paused briefly before his name, unwilling to admit her attachment. "He gave his consent to my leaving of the 13th Squad. Other than you two, I believe my absence would be… admissible."

Rukia's eyes became downcast at the last comment. It's true, no one would care if she was gone.

"I… would assume that Hisana would not allow me give you permission for taking such a risk."

Rukia was taken aback, unfamiliar with his mention of her late sister and perhaps more by the unusual sentimentality underlying the comment. Nevertheless it was oddly heartwarming, Rukia's heart swelled at the alien concept of family affection.

"I think that she knew all too well about the foolishness of man-made boundaries and rules, and would indulge me in my request." Rukia bowed her head as she spoke, feeling his gaze on the nape of her neck.

"I do not believe that there is anything in my power that would be able to stop you."

Rukia's head snapped back up to meet his eyes, shocked at him relenting so quickly. His gaze was unreadable as she got up quickly from her place. Just as Rukia's hand reached for the door, Byakuya spoke up:

"Do not let me break my promise to Hisana."

Rukia smiled knowingly and stepped out of the room, knowing that she would never return.

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A/N: It's almost heartbreaking and gut wrenchingly painful for you clickers to review. Please, do it.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: okay, perhaps my last note was a little bitter, I apologize for that. It was certainly frustrating. But I have found new motivation to keep the story going by the lovely reviews I received from you guys.

Okay, I realize that this chapter might not portray Ichigo in the most favourable light, but it's setting up for the romance in the next chapter, so bear with me. I rather like it though, nice bit of romantic angst.

So enjoy this special long chapter for RinUtari and review please.

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"Hey Urahara, remember that _big_ favour you owe me?" Rukia blasted open the doors of the Urahara shop and was greeted by a rugged figured, slumped over on the floor clutching a bottle of sake. Tentatively, she nudged the inanimate figure draped in green and white strips with the tip of her foot, keeping all contacts to a minimum.

"Urgh…" Urahara rolled over with an agonizing groan, no doubt suffering from the consequences of the bottle.

He cracked an eye open, with immense difficulty, only to notice the utter disgust and annoyance on a face that he thought he would never see again.

"Miss Kuchiki, to what do I owe this special visit?" Urahara's sly tone only added to Rukia's anger.

"I need somewhere to live for the time being, which unfortunately will have to be here for the time being." Rukia crossed her arms defensively, weary of whatever might be going on in his head. Urahara now pulled himself up in a sitting position against the wall, eyeing Rukia with an amused look.

"Is that kid _really_ that important?"

Rukia felt blood rising to her face. She was just about to open her mouth in to make up an excuse when Urahara held up a silencing hand.

"It's fine, we can try this again when you are a better liar." He smirked. "Come, your gigai is waiting."

Still wobbling a bit from the alcohol, Urahara led the way to the back storage rooms. He stumbled around in the dark for a few seconds before he finally found a dust covered box, a rather large one at that.

"Now _this_ brings back memories." Even in the dark Rukia could see a twinge of bitterness in his usual smirk. "It got me kicked out of Soul Society." He chuckled at the thought, dispelling the sudden serious air that surrounded him.

"Why? What did or _does_ it do?" Rukia's guard immediately came up and took a step away from the box.

"A loyal servant." Urahara's nonchalant voice cut through the darkness, sending an unpleasant chill down her spine. "That, combined with the spiritual power of a few captain would be rather unpleasant if fell into the wrong hands."

Rukia's eye widened, she never thought that such a thing could have been possible, let alone Urahara having the powers to invent something like that.

Suddenly, just as the eerie atmosphere became too hard to bear, an uncontrollable laughter shot out from where Urahara was standing. In the dim light Rukia could see Urahara bent over and clutching at his chest for air. Still gasping desperately for air, Urahara looked up at her, amusement spread plainly across his face.

"Miss Kuchiki, we really need to do something with that gullibility of yours. You can never hope to survive in this world like that." At the thought, he exploded into laughter once again.

Rukia could feel blood rushing up to her face, drumming loudly in her ear. She closed her eyes and counted the number of way that she could kill Urahara, which was oddly calming. But she finally decided to go for the most simple and effective way, where she walked up to Urahara's writhing figure and launched a foot into his stomach.

The said man immediately pummeled into the numerous boxes behind him. A cloud of dust immediately filled the dinky little room.

Rukia looked at Urahara's figure on top of a heap of wrecked boxes with a degree of satisfaction, the flush still not entirely gone from her face.

"My, my, Miss Kuichiki, if you are going to live here from now on, we must keep these incidents to a minimum. How am I to do business with you wrecking my merchandises everyday?" Urahara said in that amused sneer of his, destroying any momentary calm that had settled in Rukia.

"Though, I must make a note to never invoke upon that Kuchiki temper," laughter once again threatened to rise up from his throat, which he bit back at the risk of provoking Rukia even further. "Your brother was quite the same."

"Urahara." Rukia said warningly, reminding him what she had come for. He surprisingly took the hint quickly and opened the large box. Rukia held her breath in anticipation but soon found it unnecessary, the gigai looked just like any others she had seen. As if he knew, Urahara explained in a rather offended tone.

"Don't judge a book by its cover Miss Kuchiki, this gigai is the reason why I'm manning this little shop, with no hope to an end to this torture." He paused for a dramatic flair, "this will eventually render you human, which means that there is no way back if you fail."

Rukia was painfully aware of that, but this path was as good as any other. It might even be better than the eternal monotony of Soul Society.

"Well, I guess you already know that. Shall we begin?"

---

Outside of the Urahara shop, Rukia took a deep breath of the familiar air. It was certainly peculiar, the sensation of being in a real body, but it was no different from the last time she was in a gigai. It's hard to believe that her spiritual powers were slowly being taken away from her.

She began walking aimlessly down the path in front of her with no clear idea of destination. Grey clouds, oppressively low, were rolling in the sky with obvious signs of rain. Not at all aware, she turned onto the familiar path leading to the Kurosaki home.

How is she to survive in this world? She can't work, or rather doesn't know how, have no money, or any friends-

Then it struck her as Orihime, Chad and Uryuu's faces floated to her mind. They were sure to remember… right? The new found hope was immediately clouded over by a nagging worry. Would they remember her? Was she that important to them that after all these years they would still remember? Ichigo, who was the link between them, was gone.

As the questions went on, Rukia was less and less sure of her prospects, that is, until she turned a corner.

It was him.

Ichigo was walking, or rather stumbling along towards her, kept from falling solely by the walls that lined the path. Rukia couldn't think of anything but standing at the path's end, watching the sorry mess. His name caught in her throat.

As he struggled his way closer to her, Rukia's brain was scrambling for a reaction. Perhaps a blessing, Ichigo's legs suddenly gave out under him when he was just a few meters from where she was standing. There was nothing she could do but watch him retch painfully on his hand and knees. It was until when he got up and fell to the ground a second time that her brain finally released the lock on her limbs that she ran to his aid.

Ichigo had been drinking, so much that the air around him was saturated with the smell of alcohol. He was mumbling something intelligible and slipping in and out of consciousness when Rukia put one of his arms on her should and hoisted him up.

He was unbelievably heavy. After just a few steps Rukia's body was screaming for relief, but she gritted her teeth and dredged on.

She could only laugh ruefully at the irony of _her_ having to carry _him_. Her short legs were shaking under the immense weight and fatigue while his, much more useful in a time like him, were dragging along on the ground, once in a while stumbling a few meek steps.

Somewhere along the difficult trek to his house, the rain began pouring down on them.

"_You_ are crying?" Rukia muttered bitterly at the grey sky, "what about me?"

After what seemed like an eternity, Rukia's legs finally buckled under the weight and both bodies fell onto the ground with a splash. With no other option, she dragged Ichigo into a sitting position against the wall that separated a family's backyard and the pathway, and plopped down beside him herself.

They just sat there, side by side, for a while. In the splatter of raindrops, Rukia could no longer distinguish the rain and tears that were pouring down her cheeks. How did things come to _this_? Would things have been different if she came back with him?

Her former determination was completely gone, a hopeless void devoured whatever will she had. She cried, for herself, for him, and the time that was lost between them.

Without any warning, Ichigo's hand found hers and grabbed it. Rukia's eyes stopped their crying and whipped around to see his still sleeping face, clearly with no idea of his actions. Like hers, his broad hand was icy cold from the rain, but she welcomed the sensation. It was entirely different from what she had felt in the Soul Society. For the first time she felt life, beneath his skin and her own, surging and relishing in the embrace. Her fingers became intertwined with his, trying to remember every detail, the calluses on his palm, the bones in his fingers…

A violent shiver that ran through Ichigo's hand woke her from her reveries, reminding her to get him home before he becomes sick. Once again swinging the long arm over her shoulders Rukia embarked on the journey home, his home, she corrected herself.

It was as difficult as ever, but thankfully the familiar house soon came into view through the sheets of merciless rain. Making sure that no one was looking, Rukia gently placed his slumbering figure on the doorstep of the Kurosaki home. She rang the doorbell and quickly ran at the sound of footsteps thumping toward the door.

From around the street corner, Rukia saw a shocked Isshin, seeing his son soaked to the bone and sleeping in a drunken mess on his doorstep. She was suddenly reminded of her temporary home when a sneeze caught her off guard.

Sparing a final glance at the closed door, Rukia walked away.

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A/N: Forgive me for not portraying Ichigo in the most favourable light here, but he's a _broken_ man, remember? XD

Hey clickers, review.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: okay, sorry for the longer than usual update, but life is pressing down on me a little. I'm frantically trying to squeeze in various things I have to do and this short chapter is all I can come up with this moment. I actually have written what was going to be the second half of this chapter, but due to some writer's block I'll have to use it as the next chapter if you want something to read now.

So enjoy and please review.

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"G-good morning," Rukia greeted the blond man before her, couldn't help but yawn a little. A cool draft blew into the room and she shivered a little, autumn was approaching fast. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat down across from Urahara. It was merely October and the man was already hiding under the heated lamp and blankets of the kotatsu. A simple breakfast was already spread out on the table.

Rukia smiled a little as she picked up the chopsticks. She was slowly getting used the life with Urahara and his two little minions, even coming to grow attached to them. Though Urahara still had the incredible knack of getting on her nerves no matter when.

It had been the same day in and day out. She would help out with little tasks around the shop as payment for her stay, wander about the town to familiarize herself with the new world, eat her meals at appropriate times and sleep the rest of the times away. After a month, Rukia had to force herself to consider her next step.

Urahara had taken opportunities here and there to explain to her the workings of this world, all of which she knew all too well from her stay with Ichigo. She had no idea as to how she would get a job, with no qualifications, no experience and most important of all, no skills except for demon magic. Every time the thought occurred to Rukia she arrived to the same hopeless conclusion, so after a while she just learned to turn a blind eye.

But she wasn't going to get away so easily this morning.

"Miss Kuchiki, not that I don't enjoy your stay immensely, but I need to make preparations if this is to be permanent." Urahara said, that same slippery sarcasm in his voice made her blood boil with anger. With that said, she immediately launched a foot at his legs under the kotatsu and achieved a rather satisfactory reaction.

But he was right, what was going to be her next step? She would never dream of staying at the Urahara shop for all of eternity, the mere thought made her shudder with disgust and apprehension.

"Of course not, that would be inhumane." Rukia tried to fill her voice with as much pride was possible and lifted her chin in a dignified manner, though not sure of a smart come back.

"That's lovely then," Urahara gushed in a theatrical manner, not to mention a sneaky grin on his lips. "Because _I_ have a proposition for you."

Rukia tried hard to not seem desperate to hear him out, but the news seemed too exciting even for Urahara to stop and savour the moment of superiority.

"From a connection of mine, I have found the _perfect_ little job for you." Rukia could feel the content of her breakfast churning in her stomach at the sugar-laced sound of the word, "though we would need to train you a little." He added a little distastefully studying her awkward pose, which was set ready to attack him at any moment.

"…And what would that job be?" Rukia asked in a guarded tone, alarmed with the job description if Urahara was so blatantly studying her figure.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," the little twinkle in his eyes made it clear that he was up to no good. With that, he stood up with new found enthusiasm and peered down at the still crouching Rukia.

---

_Seirei_ _Café?_

Rukia's couldn't have been any wider as she stared at the large title above her head. Is it a mere coincidence?

The stylish flair of the flowing cursives seemed to suggest a charming sanctuary for society's blue bloods, but there was definitely something more to Urahara's _connection _than meets the eye. Rukia shrugged off her worries at the thought of living with her…landlord's antics and pushed open the perfectly polished glass doors.

She was pleasantly surprised by the tastefully furnished space. Rukia greedily breathed in the unknown but intoxicating scent in the warm air. Armchairs, comfortably upholstered in burgundy, and wrought iron stools were loosely scattered about in the spacious room, all vacant in the morning hour. A subtle romance emanated from the deep mahogany and auburn that covered almost every inch of the café.

Then the chiming of china brought a dark haired man to Rukia's attention, realizing that he was watching her ever since she came through the door. He was perched on the dark marble counter that stood at the back of the room, made lustrous under the lamps that hung high above it.

"Miss Kuchiki I take it? It's that imposing gait, Captain Kuchiki _does_ strike quite an impression in one doesn't he?" He asked, a light smile bent his lips.

Rukia was above amazement, from the name of the café to the acquaintance of her brother, this man quite obviously had roots in the Soul Society. Though Rukia had the feeling that he wouldn't reveal so easily how and why he was before her at this moment.

"As you have noticed, I _am_ informed with the going-ons in the Soul Society. Somehow that made this place a rest stop of sort for various characters like myself and just recently, Kisuke's attachés like yourself." He paused with all-knowing look that made his pupils of a mediocre grey quite unfathomable, but started again with a chuckle. "Haruki will be fine."

Despite the smile that curved Rukia's lips, she made a mental note to pay just an extra bit of attention around him.

"Let's begin." The same enigmatic smile hung on Haruki's face as he threw a bundle of cloth into her arms, uniforms apparently.

Rukia studied herself in the silver gilded bathroom mirror in the new attire. She had to admit that the auburn vest and pants, and the starkly white dress shirt were quite striking upon her slim figure, if not a little stiff feeling. Chastising herself sternly for the vanity, an alien sentiment until now, she returned to the elegantly curved and darkly brilliant counter.

Until the sky was stained by the light hues of the sunset, Rukia was carefully instructed in the workings of various machines and procedures in the café's daily workings. Her brain felt saturated with information, but the excitement of an entire new world that was opening to her kept her on a constant high.

As daylight dimmed, customers slowly began trickling in and a film of sweat soon covered Rukia's forehead. She was clumsy at first, toppling over cups and spilling coffee grounds, but with Haruki's help and watchful eye everything fell into its usual rhythm.

By 7 o'clock, the initial after-work rush slowed down and gave Rukia a precious chance to rest her already sore limbs. But it then that Haruki suddenly announced that he had some errands that he had to take care of and would be leaving the place in her hands. Rukia immediately felt panic rising in her, how was she supposed to run the place so soon?

"There would be someone coming in very soon to help you out. I rarely frequent the place, so you two will be working quite, closely I would say, from now on." He said teasingly before letting himself out of the back door and disappeared completely into the night.

Rukia turned back to her post behind the counter, feeling suddenly that the place was much larger than just a minute ago. Frantically trying to calm down, she forced a deep breath into her constrict chest.

When she heard some rustling in the backroom, it didn't register in her mind at all who it might have been. After all she had no reason to, it was just another man or woman she will be working with, so her mind was solely on filling the never ending stream of orders.

Peculiarly, Rukia wasn't surprised at all when she saw that spiky patch of orange that stopped in the corner of her eye.

In the dim light, Ichigo seemed more drained than their encounter from last. It wouldn't be right to just say that he was thinner, but as if he faded a little and became more transparent. His pale face hung bleakly in the contrast of his auburn uniform, animated this moment by utter shock.

A/N: Clickers, review.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: okay, I just got my first flame. It was one of the most patronizing ones I've received, so I gotta give him or her that much.

So Bleach27, I'm writing a romance as I see fit, I doubt you can have a say in that. Maybe if you've lived a few years more, then come back and talk to me.

And as I was kindly reminded, I will not _beg_ for reviews this time. So just, enjoy.

---

"You-" Ichigo spluttered wide eyed, clearly remembering the incident from the other day. Rukia, shocked that he remembered even while stone drunk, pretended to be busy with her hands and ignored his sudden outburst. After he got over the initial shock, his eyes softened and grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks," He too pretended to be busy with something on his hand and avoided her eyes, "I don't know how else I could've gotten home. I owe ya one."

Rukia felt a pang of sadness at the slight blush that rose to his face, it was such a strange image before her. The Ichigo that she knew was gone, and frankly she didn't know what to make of the one before her.

Before she could think any further, new customers spilled through the glass doors and busied her with various orders. The work at hand took her mind off of the new torrent of thoughts evoked by the man now beside her, who was working and chatting familiarly with those who are clearly regulars to the establishment. Ichigo seemed to fit right into the fabric of space woven around them, intricately and perfectly.

The night deepened, but it seemed that the flow of customers never slowed. On the contrary, more seats were occupied than ever. The traffic outside had slowed down almost to a complete halt in the dead quiet of the night, rendering a similar quiet inside except for the faint jazz records playing in the background. All of the café's patrons were careful in preserving the silence, some reading intently darkly bound volumes and others gazing through the ceiling length windows.

It was approaching midnight and Rukia could feel her legs numbing in fatigue. Hunched over the sink, she pressed her cold fingers on her eyes to temporarily relief their constant urges to close. The pause must've been a second too long as she suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck stood up when a warm breath swept by her ear.

"Just a little while longer, we're closing soon."

The words were the lights at the end of the tunnel for her. Rukia mustered up the little energy left in her and began helping Ichigo.

After she ushered the last customer out of the door, her legs gave out instantly and she fell into the closest chair. He was not yet done in drying all of the china and Rukia took the opportunity to study the face illuminated so oddly under the lamps hung above the counter.

It was like watching a dream, he was so familiar yet so otherworldly. She couldn't put her fingers on what exactly had changed. He was older for sure, taller, his shoulders wider despite the awkwardness of his shoulder blades sticking out from under his skin. His face was different from how she remembered it, but nothing seemed different when she examined each feature separately. His nose, eyes, lips. The expected ache came then, when Rukia finally realized the years that separated them and all of the memories they never made.

"Hey, pull up a chair." Called Ichigo from behind the counter, setting down the last of the clean saucers. "Care for a cup?"

To tell the truth, Rukia really had no idea what was the dark liquid that they were selling, much less drank it. Though not to seem suspicious and also partly curious of its allure, she sat down in front of the counter and let Ichigo pour her a steaming cup of the dark liquid.

After fixing himself one, Ichigo sat on a stool behind the counter across from Rukia. He stared intently at her raised but untouched cup with a curious look before taking a sip from his own.

Following suite, Rukia took a sip from her own porcelain cup. Then she realized how deceiving its aroma was as the hot liquid hit the back of her tongue.

It was bitter, unlike anything else she had ever tasted. Rukia nearly spat the mouthful back into the cup with a look of utter disgust on her face. Ichigo watched with some amusement at Rukia, who stuck out her tongue at the shriveling bitterness and sour aftertaste.

After a few moments, Ichigo set down a glass of water in front of the newly recovered Rukia. She thankfully drank it down and grinned uncomfortably at the man before her.

"I really had no idea… I thought-"

Rukia cut him short.

"It's fine," she waved it off, "I just have never had anything of the sort."

Almost as if an afterthought, Rukia retorted with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Don't look so surprised, I once knew someone who didn't know how to drink out of a juice box."

The words slipped from her mouth before it even registered in her mind. Despite the fact that she knew Ichigo would not have an inkling of what she was talking about, a blush still crept up suspiciously on her cheeks.

Ichigo gave no reaction except for a downward turn of the corners of his mouth and set down a few straws of sugar and cartons of cream before Rukia.

"These should make it a little more palatable." Ichigo spoke with the same civil air reserved for customers. Rukia could feel a deep chasm opening between them, his face became blurred as if he was an unreachable distance away, as if she had to squint her eyes to make out the distant image.

Who was he? She asked herself. She knew that it had to be him, but there was nothing of Ichigo in that man that stood so far away from her. It would be lying, she thought.

Pensively Rukia stirred the milky content in her cup, watching the graceful swirls of cream lightening the black liquid. The small polished silver spoon clinked lightly with the porcelain china as it went around and round.

Ichigo just sat across from her and drank absent-mindedly, one mouthful after another, so much so that Rukia thought he wouldn't notice the slightest if he was drinking poison.

"So how long have you been working here?" Rukia finally found the silence unnerving and tried to strike up a conversation.

"A few months now, I haven't really been keeping track." Ichigo answered without missing a beat, but the nonchalant tone of his voice wasn't exactly conversational either. "There really isn't a point, I'm not going anywhere. Time doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you."

The last sentence came from under the counter, from where Rukia could hear bottles clattering. A moment later Ichigo stood up with a glass bottle full of amber liquid. He poured some into his now third cup of coffee and resumed his mindless consumption.

Rukia knew what was in the bottle, worry rose in her chest at the memory of their last encounter.

Silence hung oppressively in the café as Rukia watched the completely unaware Ichigo. Either because of the alcohol or fatigue, the carefully composed mask on his face was beginning to slip. From the man that she saw conversing with the customers with an ever present and polite smile, the Ichigo before her was losing any resemblance to life.

Every muscle on his face seemed to have lost their strength, letting everything to droop in a weary mess. The corners of his eyes broke loose from the easy curve on which he kept them and revealed a pair of tired and unfocused auburn eyes; the eyebrows that Rukia remembered to always be in a deep crease fell flat into two dead lines above his eyes; and the cautious smile he wore all day left his lips, who were then bitterly set in a stern line.

The Ichigo before Rukia managed to change once more in a lifeless puppet, moved only by an equally tired master. She looked down in her now cold coffee and watched her own reflection in the murky substance, the doubt in her heart was mirrored by that which was on the face of the Rukia staring up at her from the bottom of the cup.

Things were far worse that she had imagined. Can she make him remember, by her efforts alone? Does he want to remember? What if….

Rukia's train of thought slowly trailed off as sleep enveloped her. She snapped her head up when the heavily gilded grandfather clock in the corner chimed twelve times. It seemed to have achieved similar results in Ichigo as well, as he stood up and set down both of their cups in the sink.

She stood up and began walking to the backroom to change out of her uniforms. As Rukia folded up the auburn vest, she let a deep sigh escape from her. A disappointment loomed over her like a rain cloud.

Rukia felt cheated, he wasn't who she fell in love with, what she sacrificed everything for.

It was as simple as that.

There was no worse feeling than to realize that perhaps everything was for naught. It was like every bit of life fell out of her, leaving a cold void in her heart.

Rukia was silent when she stepped back into the café, her heart heavy with the dead weight of sheer dread. Ichigo, now in his casual clothes, waited for her in front of the front doors.

That was different too, the way that he dressed. Though she must admit he looked rather striking in a loose-fitting white dress shirt and dark jeans.

Just as they were walking out of the doors and about to go separate ways, Ichigo opened his mouth.

"See ya…" Ichigo said, and then suddenly remembered something, "I never asked your name." That annoying civility and distance still not lost in his voice.

"Kuchiki, Rukia Kuchiki." Rukia replied with a light smile. It was surreal, giving him her name.

It struck no impression in him. He turned to the opposite direction and gave her a wave as he walked into the night.

"See you around Rukia."

How could the same words sound so different?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: wow, I think this is my best chapter so far. That might not be much though…

I'm beginning to enjoy this story immensely, though I don't know how long I can keep it up since school is starting soon.

And wow, last chapter had the lowest review record ever. Did all of you review before because I "begged"?

If that's the case, then enjoy and review please.

---

An icy wetness marked the last week of November, clouds heavy with rain rumbled in the dark sky.

Rukia heaved a sigh of relief when she arrived in dry cloths before the café, still panting from her sprint. The street was eerily deserted, a whirl of dead leaves fluttered in the chilling wind.

The café was completely in darkness except for a few lighted lamps hanging above the back counter. However peculiar the surrounding, she felt drawn to the hazy warmth. The world seemed to have shrunken to the extent of the light.

"Where are all the customers?" Rukia asked Ichigo, who was wiping clean the counter.

"There was a power out notice, so we're closed in advance." He replied without looking at her, folding the cloth in his hands.

"Oh." She said lamely, wasn't sure what to say.

"I guess I should go back home then."

Then Rukia noticed, vaguely in the darkness, pellets of rain batting against the glass doors and flowing down in a screen of water.

Ichigo smiled.

"I'd much rather stay here for the night," he walked to a table beside the ceiling length window, holding in one hand a tray with a steaming carafe and two cups and in the other a jar containing a lit candle. "Not like I have anything else to do."

A few minutes after they took their seats, all the light in the café went out with a crackle. Everything, except Rukia and Ichigo's table thanks for the small candle he brought, sank into darkness.

The pounding rain outside became the silence inside.

Rukia sipped the cup placed before her and smiled inwardly. A dash of cream with no sugar, how she came to love the peculiar substance called coffee.

_Observant, _she thought.

And it was just that, that frustrating kindness almost out of reflex and impersonally shown to everyone and anyone. A seemingly affectionate gesture like that was truly hollow and in a way, insulting.

It had been a month since she started working there. Sure, with each hello and goodbye Ichigo slowly became familiar to her, but it left her confused as ever. Things like a few words here and there and a clean cup or spoon handed to her just when she was frantically searching for one made it seem for a moment that she was getting a hold on him, but the split second when he was allowed some peace he would return to that unreachable solitude.

A mess of feelings and thoughts tangled in the air. Rukia opened her mouth to say something but then quickly decided against it. Anything she had to say at the moment seemed trivial. She could say that it was raining hard, but so what if it was raining hard?

With no moon or any other light because of the power out, the world beyond the candle's brilliance was an utter blackness. Ichigo, at that moment, was staring intently into that very darkness, so impenetrable that it seemed solid.

The glow of candle light, endless splatter of raindrops, palms tinted pink by the heat of the coffee in hand and a man that you loved sitting before you, it could all be called romantic in other times but then, it seemed like a cheap trick to appeal to a fussy child.

"There is something nostalgic about a rainy day, isn't there?" Rukia said, resting an elbow on the table and propped up her chin on it.

Forgotten memories and water droplets alike float invisibly in the gloomy air until one unexpected day, like a temper tantrum, they all come together. The miniscule shreds melt into sepia coloured moments, and the miniscule droplets roll into large rain drops.

The sudden voice pulled Ichigo back into reality. He blinked a few times and grinned quaintly.

"I don't have anything _to_ reminisce."

There it was, the chance that she was waiting for.

"What do you mean?" Rukia feigned interest.

Ichigo was silent for a while, hesitating perhaps whether he should tell her.

"What can it mean? I don't remember anything from until just a few months ago, an accident apparently." He finally said lightly, without any of the bitterness that was expected with a reply such as that.

"Nothing?"

"Zip." He laughed it off, as if nothing could be more customary, and refilled his cup.

"Your friends and family, they must've been worried." Rukia tried hard to sound casual.

"I guess so, but it wouldn't be fair to call them _my_ friends and family now would it? The old Ichigo was their son and friends, and that's who they want. They expect me to act like he did and like what he liked. I just happen to look like him."

Ichigo stared into his cup as he spoke pensively, as if from deep within him dredging up the right words.

"However difficult it might seem, I would want to remember them." Rukia muttered, more to herself than to him. "Even if I couldn't, I would want to be around them again. I don't have a family, you see."

Ichigo brought his head up at the wistful airiness of her voice. Then it was Rukia's turn to stare out the window, playing her memories like a movie against the endless darkness outside.

"My mother died on a day like this." Rukia lied without even batting an eyelash, the audacity to do so came out of nowhere. "She was a beautiful woman, kind too, with a constant smile on her face. There was something that was radiating from her, something that assured people that the sun is still going shine and all's well with the world. Everyone loved her. I of course did too, much more so."

Despite the fact that she had never met Ichigo's mother, Rukia could understand all too well the perpetual longing and guilt carried by the dead.

_Kaien-dono…_

She could feel Ichigo's gaze on her when she spoke, and kept her eyes on the space above his left shoulder.

"I was nine when it happened. The rain was coming down in sheets, everything had a misty look to it. We were walking on the street, beside it was a slope that led down to a narrow river. We walked that street countless times before, but that day I saw a girl standing on the riverbank as if she was about to jump in. Without a doubt I ran down the glassy slope to stop her, but midway I tripped. It happened all too fast, all I remember was that her arms caught me before I even touched the ground. We fell to the riverbank, with her still holding me. When I managed to get up she was still lying there, unmoving and her arms outstretched. It was as if to remind me that she died because of me."

Rukia was surprised to find her vision blurring with tears while telling someone else's story. She was careful to avoid any mentioning of the Grand Fisher, and because of that she had to change the story completely around.

_It sounded like such a bad lie._

Her mouth was still in shape of her last word and Ichigo was still staring at the same spot on her face. Time stilled, and a tremor rang out from the very place they were sitting, rippling through the air.

It was their two hearts, chiming in perfect accord.

Neither dared to breath.

She struck something, she knew it.

Ichigo took the first breath, like that of a newborn.

He remembered her.

Not as Rukia Kuchiki.

In the deepest corner of his mind, where memories were wiped clean, he remembered her.

It was that very tremor that they would bring to the air whenever they were together, that would ripple through the darkest shadows of the mind.

The frequencies of the two minds found each other, timidly recognizing and familiarizing itself with the other. Slowly adjusting themselves, a few tones higher or lower, the two matched in a comfortable harmony.

In that ethereal pocket within space and time not bound by any physical restrictions, the two affectionately reacquainted themselves. Rukia realized that the Ichigo she knew wasn't at all lost. That fiery defiance and relentless will to live could still be felt underneath a muddy pool of confusion and exhaustion.

Ichigo recognized her too, like finding a touchstone in an existence so uncertain. Even though he didn't know from where he knew her or who she was beyond the past month, he gratefully held onto her familiar essence and thanked her for waking him up from this nightmare.

He was the first to break from the trance, and poured lukewarm coffee into both cups.

"It's been a while." He raised his cup to her.

Rukia raised hers and clinked it to his.

"Welcome back."

The rain outside fell into a steady drizzle, calmingly so.

---

A/N: see the review button? Click it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: wowie, longest chapter yet!

Thank you to those of you who review every chapter, namely RinUtari, Lost In Purple, and the especially nice and menacing review from Shotz.

I guess there should be enough fluff in here to last you a while.

Also, I just found out today that a piece of my fanfic was copied word for word on some other website under another user, so I'm adding a perhaps ineffective notice to say don't copy my work. Though I doubt anyone would like to copy this anyways.

So, enjoy and review please.

---

Ichigo was no where to be seen when Rukia arrived on Sunday morning.

She gratefully walked through the glass doors to escape the biting cold air outside, her cheeks already frozen into a brilliant hue of red.

It was a week before Christmas, and every square inch of the town was covered with red and green decorations of every kind. An optimism unique to the season floated contagiously in the air, making one can't help but smile.

Under Haruki's orders the Seirei Café followed suite in the holiday spirit. One day after the café had closed, he came prancing in with a large bag of golden ribbons and Christmas decorations, squealing with glee, quite contrary to his usual composure.

Like that Rukia and Ichigo, who were ready to drop dead after a day of work, were dragged around the café with Haruki in lead to hang lengths of ribbon along the walls and tuck sprigs of holly between shelves.

Rukia looked around the café once more, checking the backrooms and alley way, but still couldn't find Ichigo.

Thankfully by closing time, all the customers could be counted in one hand. Rukia thought when moping down the marbled floor that perhaps she should go check on Ichigo. It was certainly not like him, seeing that he never missed a shift before.

As Rukia locked up the front doors, she turned onto the path leading towards the Kurosaki home. The world was translucently bright as the brilliant winter sun cut easily through the crisp cold air, not a shadow could be found in the divine white light.

Slowly, without even realizing it a smile spread out on Rukia's lips. She actually found herself becoming excited, her first holiday in the mortal world. The season's good cheer and hope was certainly moving, but its ability to infect everyone with no regard of who they were made her feel like she belonged in the alien realm. That sort of collectivity was unheard of in the Soul Society.

All the excitement gave no time for hesitation about her visit to the Kurosaki home as she realized she was already standing before the doorstep.

Rukia took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Isshin answered the door. He seemed to have aged far more than he should have, with deep wrinkles cutting across his forehead as puzzlement covered his face.

"Yes?" He finally asked.

"Uh, yes. I…I work with your son, Ichigo, and he didn't come to work today. I was just wondering if he is alright."

Isshin grinned, and it seemed like he hadn't done so in a long time.

"So _you_ were the one who was lurking in my house all that time."

Rukia was taken aback, so much so she merely looked at him with her mouth gaping open.

Isshin too?

By then everything seemed to suddenly make sense, from Haruki and the Seirei Café to Ichigo _so happening _to work there. It would also explain why he possessed such spiritual powers for a mortal.

_Then why didn't I sense his before? Nor did he say anything while I was living in Ichigo's closet._

Isshin saw the questions on Rukia's face and gave her an enigmatic smile that seemed to say:

_Everyone is entitled to their little secrets._

"If you're looking for Ichigo you won't find him here, he moved out a while ago. I'm surprised that you don't know." Isshin reverted back to his usual oblivious self.

"I…guess not." Rukia's gaze fell to the ground, the words smarted a little.

Isshin laughed boisterously.

"Don't worry about it, I'll give you his address and you can make it up tonight." His eyes shone their old perverted gleam, wiping clean whatever impression that Rukia had of his serious self.

Stepping away from the Kurosaki home, Rukia was still shaking her head at the fact that some people just never change, an awkward smile frozen on her face.

The apartment building was nestled in a forest of identical looking concrete blocks with square windows methodically laid out on its surface. At first glance the place was rather dingy looking with clothes and undergarments of various sorts and colours fluttered from cloth lines strung across the balconies.

Her impression was proven true when she stepped into the foyer. Whatever the carpet's original colour was, it was stained beyond recognition into a sickly spotty brown; a mixture of tobacco and cheap air freshener hung in the air; and oily streaks ran from the vents onto the yellowing floral wallpaper.

Rukia rang the old fashioned doorbell on his door, entertaining the thought of leaving while she had the chance.

Just as she was battling whether or not to run, she was greeted by a feeble looking Ichigo in t-shirt and shorts.

A giggle bursted untimely out of her.

He closely resembled, at that moment, the reindeers she saw in the Christmas fliers and decorations in shop windows. His nose was a deep red and shining a little, complimented nicely by an equally flushed face.

Ichigo was swaying back and forth, drifting in and out of the delirium let on by his fever, supported solely by the doorframe that he was leaning on. With immense difficulty he dragged up a sluggish arm and let out a faint gurgle from his throat, which Rukia decided was a hello.

_Idiot, letting himself get this sick._

She pushed him back into the apartment and got in herself. His body was abnormally warm under her fingers.

In the small confines of a single room, furnishings and items were kept to a minimum, barely enough for one to live. Pushed up against one corner was a single unmade bed and battered looking night table, in another sat a wooden table and chair. To make it all the more bleak, a lone pair of fluorescent light tubes hung from the ceiling, swinging at the slightest disturbance. A stove covered with dried splatter and a grossly out-dated refrigerator held the other two corners.

Standing in the room made her feel like she was surrounded by enemy fire.

At least it wasn't cluttered, she thought. Or more correctly, he didn't have enough possessions to be cluttered.

Ichigo followed her back into the room like a zombie, his head drooping and each step proceeded automatically. A low groan was still emitting from his mouth, making the sight all the more disturbing and amusing.

Rukia pressed him down on his bed and bundled him up with every warm looking thing in the room. After a few minutes of frantic effort to stop his shivering, she discovered with horror that she was on the verge of suffocating the man. Ichigo was, in fact, struggling weakly for air under the blanket and sweaters that she tucked too tightly around his shoulders.

She couldn't help but giggle at his pathetic state, such a change from his usual stubborn countenance.

"Wa-water…" He somehow managed to free an arm from under the fortress of fabric heaped on him and grappled meekly at the air.

With utmost urgency Rukia ran to the tap and attempted to find a clean glass with no avail. She raided the few cupboards in the kitchen and found no more than six or seven plates and bowls randomly littered on various shelves, clearly not used or washed for a long time. With an exasperated sigh, she grabbed the smallest bowl she could find and filled it with water.

Kneeling beside his bed, she carefully lifted him up by his shoulders and held the bowl to his lips. Ichigo drank gratefully, though not at all aware of who was feeding him. Within a few seconds the bowl ran dry and Rukia set him back on the bed, glad to hear that his breathing became quieter and smoother.

As he sank into a dreamless sleep, Rukia got up and looked around his room once more. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and grim, clearly Ichigo didn't clean much. She gave his sleeping face one more look and ran out of the door.

In five minutes flat she made it to the café and threw every cleaning product she could find into a cardboard box. Trailing the orange brilliance of a bloody red sunset Rukia stumbled as quickly as she could back to his apartment with the large box in tow.

When she opened the front door her stomach sank at the thought that she left it unlocked all these time, leaving Ichigo at the mercy of whoever might come across. She was certainly relieved to see that everything in the room was as she left it, include his curled up figure under the blankets.

Careful not to wake him up with any noise, Rukia filled up the sink and got to work with scraping the caked on splatter off of the stove. It took everything in her arsenal and an hour of back breaking scrubbing for the room to gleam.

Rukia smiled with satisfaction. Ichigo was still sleeping away, dead to the world.

Clouds were gathering fast outside of the small window, completely obscuring the sunset that Rukia just saw seconds ago outside. The temperature seemed to have also dropped drastically, promising snow from the grey sky.

With a sigh, she sat down on the floor beside his bed and leaned against it, just as she did in the hospital. Her forehead felt cool with beads of sweat from the commotion, her heart heavy at the sight of him so sick.

_He probably didn't even know how to take care of himself, not eating or sleeping on time, or not dressing warmly enough._

Ichigo slowly but surely warmed up to her. Of course, he was still frustratingly courteous and kept a certain remote air around him, but from time to time in a mere grin or movement of his hand she could see the old Ichigo once again. He became easier around her too, speaking about things he saw on the way to work and quirky customers he encountered.

Though barging into his home probably wasn't the greatest idea at the moment.

There was no point in regretting decisions she had already made, Rukia realized dejectedly.

She stood up and checked Ichigo's temperature once again on his forehead. It was better, though still warmer than what it should've been. Rukia smoothed back his sweat drenched hair and watched his slumbering face, unmarked and tranquil like that of a child.

Perhaps it was only then he could escape the demons that haunt him.

Tentatively, Rukia ran a finger down the length of his face. The slightest touch sent a shiver through her, her heart pounding in an unfamiliar ecstasy.

Her finger was about to reach the tip of his chin when Ichigo suddenly grabbed her wrist.

A shallow gasp escaped from Rukia's mouth.

Ichigo slowly let open his eyes and met his gaze with hers. Sleep and fatigue was not all lost from his eyes, but it was clear that he had been awake for sometime now.

"Why?" He whispered, a little hoarse from the fever. His warm breath danced on her face.

_Yes, why?_

"I…" Rukia found herself at a lost of words.

Why was she doing all of this?

"Maybe I owe you in another life." Rukia faked a casual smile and shrugged to make light of the situation, though in some ways it did contain a grain of truth.

Ichigo was clearly not buying as he narrowed his eyes as if boring through her to find the real reason.

Wanting to change the subject, Rukia opened her mouth and was about to say something when a firm hand planted itself on the back of her neck. Her head took a sharp dive and found the mouthful of air she just took caught between their connected lips.

Rukia was amazed by just how long she, and Ichigo, could do without breathing. In her fingertips, now tangled with his, fireworks exploded at the sensation of his lips holding hers so chastely.

Rukia's back was starting to ache for bending at such an extreme angle down, and the single hand, held in Ichigo's, was beginning to shake under the weight of her entire body. She finally broke the seal for a gasp of air, savouring the lingering warmth.

Still standing over him, a tear, followed by many others, brimmed over Rukia's eyes and fell on Ichigo's cheeks. What was it that she was feeling? Was she happy that her wish was finally fulfilled, sad that it came true like this, or merely overwhelmed by a memory that was so suffocating wonderful?

Their heads met in mid-air as a compromise of sort and Ichigo's lips slowly grazed over the tears flowing down her face. Without a word he lifted up a corner of his blanket and made room for her on the narrow bed. Rukia accepted the offer without any hesitation and climbed in silently.

His body eclipsed hers as she curled up vulnerably against him, his warmth wrapped around her. Rukia breathed in deeply, that familiar yet indescribable scent of his skin plus a wisp of coffee from being around it so much.

They laid there open eyed for a while, no words or sounds intruded upon the comfortable silence.

Illuminated by the streetlight outside of their third story window, Rukia could see snowflakes sprinkling down from the heavens, each dancing in their nonsensical ways. In a few minutes a thin layer had already piled up in the window's corner.

"Hey Ichigo, hear that? The sound of snow falling?" Rukia whispered, her voice muffled by his chest. By then his arm already found its way loosely across her waist, almost as if he was afraid that she would ran away any minute.

There was a long silence before she heard his answer.

"You wouldn't happen to kick in your sleep, would you?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Yet another chapter! I'm scrambling to finish as much of this story before school starts.

Sorry for the short chapter, but I felt that this was the best place to cut off. If it's any reassurance, I'm already working the next one.

Wow, it takes fluff for people to finally review huh? I'm oddly surprised by that, though I just might have more in store for you guys.

Well, enjoy and review please.

I've been forgetting disclaimers this whole time. I don't own Bleach or any of its characters in anyway, nor do I own Jamie Cullum's album, "Catching Tales".

---

Rukia woke up in the middle of the night, for a moment completely lost as to where she was. She shifted against the warmth beside her and realized what was amiss, there shouldn't have been one.

Her eyes flew open when the memories of a few hours ago surfaced in her mind.

Rukia would've shot up from the bed if it wasn't for her legs, hopelessly entangled with Ichigo's, that held her firmly in place. With a blush unseen in the dark, she left go of her clutch on his shirt at his stomach. The distance between their two bodies was literally non-existent.

With an unfound audacity, she put her arms around his chest and pressed her entire body against him. She felt safe, to feel the contours of his body and the ledges of his ribs, and breathe his warm aura.

At that moment, on that very spot, all was right with the world.

It wasn't remotely so when morning came. As the two woke up at the sight of each other, so close in their own embraces, an awkward air settled over the room. Ichigo, who looked as if he had never been sick, and Rukia dressed without a word, occasionally muttering an unintelligible apology when their hands brush by or bump into each other trying to maneuver in the small space.

"Should we go then?" Ichigo asked hesitantly when they ran out of ways to avoid each other.

"Yeah…" Rukia answered, trying hard not to look at his face.

With a quick sigh, as if to prepare himself for the day, Ichigo opened the apartment door and held it for Rukia to step out. A restless silence hung over them as they waited for the elevator, each on the verge of opening their mouth to say something but then decided against it.

The second they walked through the threshold of the front door, it was as if they had stepped out into another world. Everything was shrouded in a shimmering white, the heatless winter sun danced off of strands of snow and rendered the world without a single shadow.

As they walked, Rukia stole a few glances at Ichigo beside her. His brows were knotted together, like he used to, seemingly seriously contemplating something. She felt unsettled, was he regretting last night? The unease continued.

The morning passed uneventfully, any words said were purely perfunctory, like "pass the cup" or "can you take out a roll of pennies". It was torturous, having fear and doubt circling in her mind and manifesting itself to the point of irrationality.

Then the shrill sound of the telephone ringing finally broke through the monotony. Ichigo was the closest and naturally picked up the receiver.

"Seirei Café, Ichigo speaking."

Busy with a customer, Rukia couldn't see the expression on his face, but pieces of the conversation drifted to her ear.

"I've been alright, you?"

…

"No, I don't have anything planned."

…

"Oh, I see."

…

"I'll be there then. Thanks, bye."

Rukia was just about to ask who it was, but Ichigo, without sparing one look at her, walked directly back to the counter and greeted the next customer in line. After an entire day of paranoia and speculation, the mystery was finally unraveled that night.

They were both cleaning up the day's mess, Rukia washing the cups and Ichigo sweeping the floor. Out of nowhere, Ichigo spoke up as if commenting on the weather:

"My father asked me to go spend Christmas Eve at home, and he told me to invite you too. It seems like he's quite familiar with you."

Despite the casualness of his voice, his face was a solid red.

Rukia was quiet for a moment, there was something she had to know before anything else.

"Did you mean it?"

Her pulse quickened in expectation, or was it apprehension? Then his answer came like a slap on the face.

"Did _you_? And why? You never gave me an answer."

This was the first time Rukia had heard his voice so charged, the civility gone without a trance.

"Were you doing it all, coming to see me and help me, for _me_ or just because I _look_ like the Ichigo that you knew? Who was it that you were kissing, _me_ or _him_?" Ichigo abandoned all pretence of indifference and stopped his mopping to face her. Hurt was evident in his voice.

Rukia was completely caught off guard, forgetting her own question about his intentions. She gaped at him, almost waiting for him to say "just joking!".

But he didn't.

"Why else was I doing it? Because I love you!" She almost yelled, feeling her eyes sting with hot tears. Does he not know that already? It wounded her, much more than she ever thought possible, for him to even ask that.

When the words left her mouth, she realized that she had just betrayed her deepest secret.

Ichigo stopped for a second, but he was too determined to get his answers to be savour the words' consequences.

"Why?"

Rukia was finally struck silent. No matter how deeply she dug within herself, the root of the affection eluded her. She just realized it one day, without any sign of its existence in her heart, but it seemed that it had been there forever. No beginning, no end.

He looked as if he wasn't sure if he should've felt vindicated by her silence or hurt incredibly by it. Finally he decided on the later and, without a word, stepped through the front door still in his uniforms.

It all happened too fast for Rukia to process at that instant. When she finally did, she sank to the ground, too disgusted with herself to cry. Amidst his anger Ichigo didn't notice that she avoided one of his questions.

When she was holding him last night, all her senses but the warmth of his body muted by the darkness, what were her thoughts? What was she feeling? _Who_ was she holding?

Ah, she remembered.

"_I've missed you, Ichigo."_


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm so sorry for this bogus filler chapter. I really don't have the time to write anymore since school started, so one more chapter and we're done. I probably only have enough material left for one more chapter, though things can always change.

Again, sorry for this bad, bad chapter, but it sets up for the next one I guess. I promise that the next one will be better.

Please enjoy and review.

---

Conveniently, maybe a little too much so, the Christmas holiday came the next day.

Fatigue from the last few months took its toll the minute she laid down on the futon in her temporary home, the backrooms of Urahara's shop. For the night and entire next day, she remained engulfed in the deep slumber, held there perhaps by a part of her that wished to remain in the dark oblivion. Away from his stinging words and wounded eyes.

Groggily she opened her eyes to the windowless wall and savoured the blissful minute where she couldn't remember when or where she was. But the ignorance was short lived and just as the memory reared its ugly head in her mind, Rukia shot up from under her blankets to divert her attention elsewhere.

The house was eerily quiet, as Urahara and the two brats were nowhere to be seen. With a yawn Rukia walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea in the cold morning. Outside of the kitchen window the air was free of falling snow, all the colours muted under the grey sky.

She leaned against the sink and breathed the light fragrance from her steaming cup, letting it fill to her lungs and warming her. It was delightful, the warmth in the room clashed with the unforgiving cold outside. But instantly, Rukia felt guilty for the small cork on her lips.

She had hurt a man, perhaps beyond repair, and now cowardly escaping the responsibility.

His words resounded in Rukia's ears again:

_For me or just because I look like him? _

_Why do you love me?_

With a heavy sigh Rukia set down her cup in the kitchen sink, her thoughts fruitlessly ran in a circle.

_Why do I love you? Does there need to be a why? I just do, isn't that good enough? But is that love, when I can't even explain it? There must be a why, so why do I love you?_

Just like that, she would find herself right back to square one.

The air outside looked crisply cold, like spotless glass, suggesting some lucidity there. Within the minute Rukia was armed in a heavy coat that Urahara so peculiarly had ready and walked through the shop's door.

Her breath materialized in a wispy plume, quaintly so, in the crystalline air. Rukia wandered aimlessly on the street, Christmas shoppers walked past with bags of various colours and sizes, all looking hectic and ready to drop with the weight. She let the tangled thoughts drown in the flashing colours and mess of too many Christmas songs playing all at once.

She walked, not once looking back.

_How far will I have to go, to find an answer? Will _I_ believe it? Will he be there to listen?_

"Miss Kuchiki, decided to join in on the festivities?" An annoyingly familiar voice cut through the hubbub of shoppers.

Normally Rukia would try to ignore it and walk on, but today anyone's company was welcome. She turned to the direction of his voice and saw the blond man, with his two little minions in tow, waving at her from behind the sake stand.

_So I find him there._ Rukia thought warily.

"Yes Urahara, it _was_ too quiet in the house without you three." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Isn't it? I'm glad you decided to join us for the holiday shopping!" Urahara ignored her mockery and called back with an enormous smile on his face. He held up the bags in his hand, which were filled solely by bottles that he clearly purchased from the stand.

Rukia chuckled ruefully and walked up to the trio, wondering how she was willing to spend an entire day with Urahara.

She soon discovered it an excellent distraction from her current predicament, as she was dragged from one shop to another by Ururu, whose cheeks were a giddy red from the cold and excitement. Chinta was equally ecstatic, releasing his pent-up energy by chasing and bullying the girl. Rukia felt lighter, her heart lost in the merriment before her.

The sky was dark when they returned to the shop. After dropping the countless bags onto the living room floor, Rukia was the first to sink to the tatami floor and nurse her throbbing leg. She was reluctant to admit it, but the day's memory melted in a flurry of colours and sounds, too wonderful to remember each second.

With a thud, Urahara slammed down a bottle of newly purchased liquor onto the table and plopped down across from her, beckoning Ururu and Chinta to join them also. The two brought four glasses and a plate of assorted snacks that they picked up earlier.

_Drinking party…figures._

Rukia accepted her first glass from an overly zealous Urahara, and found it quite enjoyable as each mouthful warmed her in a way that a cup of coffee never could. In the middle of her second, a shapeless contentment filled her, spreading a foolish grin on her face. Urahara's face was flushed as he began telling in a loud voice past antics of shinigami captains.

"Then," Urahara paused to take a breath amidst his uncontrollable laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes, "apparently Byakuya started crying when Yoruichi caught him using shunpo."

Rukia was rather unsettled by the image of a miniature Byakuya crying. Even as a child, the idea of any expression of emotions on her brother seemed too alien to comprehend. Unexpectedly, she found herself giggling along.

Somewhere along the way, the two midgets succumbed to the effects of the alcohol and fell asleep on the tatami floor. With just the two of them left, Rukia vaguely realized that she was willingly spending time with Urahara.

"I take it from your night out that we are making progress?" Urahara asked piercingly, his tone still sly as ever.

_When he puts that way, it sounds so wrong…_

"It's… not going exactly as I had planned." Rukia chose her words carefully, not to give him any details.

"Ah, Ichigo has gotten a little shrewder since you last left him, has he?"

"Do you love Miss Shihouin?" Rukia asked. She could tell, the question caught him off guard.

"Love? Miss Kuchiki, I'd expect you to use a word that's not so… illusionary." Urahara looked down at his half empty glass, all of a sudden more serious than she had ever seen. "But I guess the answer you are looking for is yes."

"Why do you?"

"No reason." Urahara shrugged, almost as if he was anticipating such a question. "But I guess that's why she still talks to me."

Rukia chewed the words over in her mind, he made it sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why does the answer elude her, was it something that only ones who are in love could understand?

Was it simply because she wasn't?

---

When Rukia pulled her aching body up from the futons, she cursed that Urahara's sleazy lifestyle was getting to her. To make the self-loathing worse, she discovered as she walked into the kitchen that it was already noon. The other three members of the household seemed to have also just woken up, each looking like hell and nursing a hangover. Rukia walked past Urahara, who was slumped face down over the kitchen table, and filled a glass of icy water to ease her pounding headache, clearly an aftermath of last night's drinking.

"Ururu," Urahara spoke with a raspy voice, without lifting his head from the table, "find those daikons from yesterday, you know what to do… Take Chinta with you, quickly."

_So that's why he bought them, guess these drinking parties are a regular fare._

Ururu and Chinta pulled themselves up with a great amount of effort and shuffled to the storage room, where Rukia guessed last night's purchases were kept. Within seconds, after an odd series of whirling from the storage room, the two came back each holding two glasses of whitish looking liquid. Urahara and Rukia were each given one.

"Drink it." Urahara downed the contents in a mouthful, wincing slightly at the taste.

Rukia almost spit it out as soon as she took a drink, it was unmistakably juice from those daikons. It was slightly salty and piqued at the inside of her mouth, with a hint of the taste of soil. But in pure hope of ridding the headache, she poured it down in one swig and instantly felt her eyes water.

Remarkably, after the pungent taste cleared from her mouth, Rukia could feel her headache and nausea receding. Though any endearment she ever felt towards Urahara was gone at that moment, replaced by an iron will to never touch the stuff ever again.

_How could Yoruichi ever stand him?_

---

A/N: Sorry again for the filler chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Okay, finally the last chapter is done. I'm intrigued by what reaction I'll get. What a long strange trip it's been... Well, I loved writing this story and it's my first complete work, so it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Please read and review.

Enjoy.

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December 24th, Christmas Eve.

Curiously, it came as ordinarily as any other thought that one would have while scrubbing the floor. That morning Urahara woke everyone yelling something about Christmas cleaning, and Rukia was assigned the mind numbing task of wiping the floor. As the wash cloth went around and round on the tatami mats, her mind wandered in a similar circle.

_No reason... maybe that's why she still talks to me...No reason...she still talks to me..._

Ahh, that's it.

---

Rukia could hardly contain the excitement of her discovery as she pressed the doorbell outside of his house, above her snow blossomed in large flowers from the ink black sky. Even through the front door, excited voices could be heard from inside the house and conjuring up an image of warmth and bliss in the cold.

It seemed the longest time when Ichigo finally appeared at the door, shrouded against the cold by a dark sweater. There wasn't a hint of surprise or unease as he silently implored her face for the reason of her appearance.

"Ask me again, if you still care to know." Rukia looked defiantly up into his gaze and said.

Still, he said nothing and continued to search for something in her eyes, hesitating to put himself back into that place of vulnerability.

"Why?"

"No reason." A proud smile spread out on her lips.

"No reason?" He repeated with a look of utter disbelieve, not sure if he heard correctly.

"There is nothing about you, or of you that I love. If I loved your voice, that you can't speak to me in now, or that infuriating stubbornness that you don't have anymore, I wouldn't be able to love you now. But I still do, because I love _you_, Ichigo, nothing else."

She finished in a single breath, her cheeks flushed from the effort. Rukia still dared not to breathe as she looked to Ichigo for a reaction. A gleam quivered in his auburn eyes as he continued to look at her intently. Rukia heard a rush of air as he opened his mouth to speak, but his words were caught at the sound of a voice that Rukia thought she would never hear again.

"Who is it, Ichigo?" Orihime said in that impossibly sweet voice of hers, appearing from behind Ichigo's towering figure.

Her face paled at the sight of Rukia's snow laden stature, her mouth opened and closed, trying in vain to find words fitting for such a surreal occasion. Ichigo's eyes darted between the two women, waiting from either an explanation for their drastic reactions. None came as Rukia turned her heel and ran as quickly as she could the other way.

It was only then that she realized how strong and cold the wind became against her fragile body, snipping at every inch of bare skin and bringing tears to her stinging eyes. But Rukia had to keep running, as far as she could to leave the humiliation behind. One after another, her thin soled feet pounded on the asphalt road, slipping occasionally on patches of ice. In any normal frame of mind, she would probably realize that Ichigo and Orihime were nothing more than mere friends. On that precise day and moment, though, it was nothing but betrayal. So she ran faster, away from their taunting laughter that chased her relentlessly.

Her head ducked away from the flurry of snow and ice pellets blown against her, Rukia gradually lost all sense of direction. She wondered how far she could go, as long as there was a road beneath her feet, _where_ she was going was no longer important.

"Rukia!"

The faint sound of his voice reached her through the sheets of wind and snow, spurring her to run even faster away from it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a vague dark figure moving towards her. Rukia had no idea why she was running _away_ from him, when all she wanted at the moment was to share the warmth of his skin and see the smile in his eyes.

The pavement ended abruptly under her feet as a road stretched before her, a few lonesome cars whizzed by all hurrying to return to the places they call home.

There Ichigo was, standing across from her on the other side of the road, seperated from her by a deep chasm in every sense of the word. Unmoving, he flickered in and out of sight through the torrent of white, any expression he might have had lost in the distance.

Before Rukia could process it all, Ichigo unrooted himself and stepped on to the road, moving towards her. He was running, as quickly as his legs and the wind allowed, but all Rukia could see was the two brilliant dotes of light that were quickly looming him. No rational thoughts transpired in the next moment as her legs carried her, on their own accord, to where he was. How her short legs could've covered the distance before Ichigo did was unbeknownst to her, but she did sure enough as the cold metal impacted with her fragile flesh.

Rukia's eyes were wide in disbelief, a quiet gasp of surprise escaped from her mouth that was unheard over the sharp screech of brakes. There was no pain, just a deep freeze that penetrated to her bones, immoblizing her. She was vaguely aware of her rather harsh contact with the ground, but the surge of hot liquid, thick and metalic tasting, that bursted through her mouth was harder to ignore.

Lying on the ground, she could feel the tiny tremor of his every step, thundering towards her. Rukia felt his arms picking up her shoulders and lightly laid them on his knelt lap, his shaking fingers wiping the sickly scarlet on her lips. It was getting harder and harder for her to stay conscious, but she forced herself to bring his stricken face into the sharpest focus. At that moment, every care in the world disappeared, all except for burning that image in to the deepest corner of her mind.

Ichigo looked as though he was about to cry. _What a strange sight_, Rukia thought almost nonchalantly. But he steadied himself.

"I wanted to remember, like you once reminded me." His voice tingle in her ear, bringing an irrepressible flutter to her tired heart.

She smiled and finally let close her drooping eyelids.

"Thank you." The words almost came out as a sigh. "There, I finally said it. You finally heard it."

He gave a choked sound and encircled her in the final embrace, holding in it all the love that he remembered and forgot, and all the memories he lost and made. Rukia could feel countless icy specks, mixed with hot droplets, falling onto her cheeks, her eyes, and her lips.

"I'm glad, that this time we could say good bye. See ya, Ichigo." Her lips jerked into a difficult smile, "and this time, I can finally keep my promise."

"See ya around, Rukia." Ichigo forced a teary smile and kissed away the snowflakes that fell on her eyelashes.

The last bond she had with the the world broke as soon as the words left his mouth. When the last breath of warm air flew out of her parted lips and the last shred of her mind sank into darkness, Rukia muttered an ancient prayer.

_With you, I finally found that place not reacheable alone._

---

A/N: Thank you for reading And the last sentence came from the Clover manga by CLAMP.


	12. Epilogue

A/N: I lied, THIS is the last chapter. I just thought that it's a better way to end the story. Thank you.

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Epilogue

The sky was a spotless blue that day. The birlliant winter sun danced off of the snow shrouded world, its light so clear, crystaline almost.

Rukia sat on a tall branch, her bare legs dangling as she looked down on Ichigo. He stood pensively with his back to her before a simple headstone, holding a simple cluster of pale flowers. As if it took an immense amount of willpower, he laid the bouquet down and tore himself away.

_Hey Ichigo, we never did spend that Christmas Eve together. But I feel as if I remember it all, us talking and laughing, free from all the worries in the world._

_The mortal life time is too short for a human to notice it, but in the Soul Society, everyone knows that the world repeats itself in a perpetual circle. Those who parted will one day meet again. We, one day, will meet again._

"Until then, Ichigo." She whispered as his figure grew smaller and smaller into the distance.

---

Ichigo suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around when he thought he heard his name. But no one was in the grave yard, so Ichigo casted one last look at the small grave at the base of the tall pine and walked away, leaving a lonely trail behind him.


End file.
